Snow and Tears
by The Wino
Summary: Ficlet featuring Glorfindel and Ecthelion, dealing with the death of loved ones on the Grinding Ice. (Slash warning.)


Disclaimer: _I own nothing. Tolkien owns all. Including myself._

Warnings: _Slashiness! If you don't like male/male relationships... well, peh! Don't read!_

**Snow and Tears**

Fingolfin called his host to a halt. A heavy fog had settled over the Helcaraxë, obscuring the vision of even the most keen-sighted of the Noldor exiles, and rendering further travel (perilous to begin with) impossible. A single mis-step could mean a plunge through the ice, and instant death. Hardy as the firstborn were, not many could survive a dip in the frigid waters, even if they could avoid being crushed in the ice. Just days ago they had suffered such a tragedy. The ice cracked and split beneath the feet of the people of Finarfin. Many were unable to flee, falling into the black water and meeting their deaths. Therefore, many of the survivers were grateful for the brief respite, to heal exhaustion of both the heart and body. Fingolfin and the sons of Finarfin drew their people together to form a camp in as solid a patch of land as they could find. A few attempted to light a fire, though it was in vain. What fuel they had they used up long ago, and none were willing to give up their cloaks or their blankets for a few moments of warmth. They bedded down close to eachother, prepaired to wait until the thick mist rolled over that they might continue their journey.

In unspoken agreement, two young elves each left the company of their houses to meet one another. They were the fledgling lords Glorfindel and Ecthelion, friends, both newly orphaned, both forced to undertake the responsibility of leading their respectful houses. Neither spoke a word to the other as they bedded down together near the edge of the Noldor's camp, cloaks and blankets serving as their only protection from the cold. The silence was comfortable and easy as it could be, given the circumstances, only penetrated by the murmur of voices and the occasional howl of wind.

Glorfindel was already in a light doze when he first noticed Ecthelion's shaking. Thinking his friend was cold, he instinctively moved nearer, slipping an arm about his waist and snuggling close. This was not so unusual in recent days. In an attempt to lessen the numbing cold, the pair had taken to lying close to each other as they slept. Their mingled body-heat was just enough to make the bite of the snow and frosty air bearable, and if they huddled close, swathed in cloaks and blankets, they could distract themselves from their discomfort long enough to snatch an hour or two of sleep. It was a method practiced throughout the camp, by all but a few stubborn individuals who thought themselves hardy or hopeless enough to withstand the frigid temperatures on their own. One of these had been Ecthelion's mother. Having lost her husband to the rupture in the grinding ice a few days before, she isolated herself from her son and from her family. They had found her that morning, frozen to death on the outskirts of the Noldor's camp.

Minutes passed, and still Ecthelion would not stop shaking. Glorfindel gradually came to realize that it was not the cold bothering his friend. Concern drew him out of his sleepy haze. Frowning just a little, he propped himself up on his elbow so as to get a better look at the other elf. It was difficult to see much in the dim light of the veiled stars, but what he did see caused a few tears to prick in his bright blue eyes. Ecthelion was crying. He was lying with his face to the ground, his eyes hidden in the crook of his elbow. Glorfindel heard, now that he was more fully awake, the muffled sound of his sobs. He wavered, his heart aching to see him succumb to his grief, though in all truth part of him was a little relieved. It had unnerved him, the stony resignation and acceptance with which he had taken the death of his father, and the passing of his mother.

He sat up, letting the heavy blanket and fur-lined cloaks fall away. He tried to ignore the sting of the cold, but could do nothing to prevent or stifle his shivering. After a few gentle words and touches, he managed to coax Ecthelion to sit up as well. He was ashamed of his tears, and tried to wipe them away, but was no more successful in stifling his sobs than Glorfindel had been with his shivers. Eventually, reluctantly, he gave in. He leaned into the welcome embrace, twined his arms around the other elf's neck, and hid his face in his shoulder, crying his heart out as Glorfindel held him. Glorfindel did not know what to do - he did not know how to comfort Ecthelion. Their grief was the same. Their loss was the same. Only days ago their positions had been reversed: Ecthelion comforting Glorfindel as he mourned the death of his parents, along with the loss of the bliss and happiness they had had in Valinor. Glorfindel could not very well tell him that it would get better, as he doubted this himself. He had no words of comfort.

So, he simply held him, listened to him cry, and waited for the tears to stop. He pressed his forehead against Ecthelion's dark hair, rubbed his back, his quaking shoulders... Ecthelion did eventually stop crying. However, it was not a gradual thing, as one would expect. His sobs did not lessen, or grow quieter, gentler - it was not a quiet transition from hysterics to calm. His cries, instead, were cut off completely, abruptly, as if he had suddenly lost the ability to breathe.

This startled Glorfindel out of his thoughts, but before he could make anything of it, Ecthelion disentangled himself from the embrace, gripped his shoulders tightly, and pushed him roughly to the ground. Glorfindel gave a little yelp of surprise as he was laid flat on the snow, but was unable to come up with any further protest. He tried. Flustered, he tried to question him, but Ecthelion had chosen that moment to catch his lips in a kiss. A kiss! He lay frozen to the ground, until the initial shock faded away. Ecthelion took no notice. He aligned his body over Glorfindel's, and proceeded on with the kiss, gently, gently, as if making up for pushing him down in the first place.

It was soft... sweet and sad, the kiss. Glorfindel offered no resistance as Ecthelionnudged past lips and teeth, his tongue meeting and tenderly stroking against his own. He felt the warm drop of his friend's tears as they spilled off his cheeks, the warm press of his hands on his face. It was not unpleasant. It was... unexpected, yes, but not unwanted, and... warm. In fact, everything about that kiss was warm. His heart began to race, and he could feel the blood coursing hotly through his veins, so quickly as to make him dizzy. He clung to the other elf, returned the kiss with a fire kindled all the more brightly in the cold of the Helcaraxë. He rolled over and pinned Ecthelion's slighter body beneath him, tangled his fingers in his hair. Their ebony and golden locks mingled, caught stray snowflakes as they rolled in the snow. A time came when Glorfindel did not know whether the dampness on his face came from Ecthelion's tears or his own, but he did not care. He forgot everything. He forgot about the cold. He forgot about the Oath, and about Fëanor. He forgot about the crushing grief of the past few eternities, and so did Ecthelion. They knew only each other, that they were together, both feeling the same pain, the same loss, the same despair.

It was Ecthelion who broke the kiss, unable to catch his breath. He started to cry again, and lay in his friend's arms sobbing for a long time afterwards. Glorfindel cried, too. Despite this, the kiss left them both somewhat comforted. Glorfindel felt a sense of calm he had not felt since his days in the Blessed Realm. His grief was still there, without a doubt, but it had taken on a serene quality that made it bearable. He knew that whatever might happen to him, whatever the misfortune or sorrow that would be put in his way, he would always have Ecthelion, always have the love of his dark-haired comrade. Thus comforted, their tears died away, and they slipped into dreamless sleep, for once oblivious to the icy cold of the eternal night.

Author's Note: _I rewrote this a bit. Thank you, everybody, for your tips. I am infinitely grateful. Aaaaand... yuss. R&R! I love feedback and am always open to concrit! In fact, I've been known to beg for it. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed thus far. I love you all!_


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